


One Hundred

by Apparentlynotreallyfinnish



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish/pseuds/Apparentlynotreallyfinnish
Summary: “I want you to count to one hundred."A request made again and again through the years they spend together.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 17
Kudos: 93





	One Hundred

**Author's Note:**

> This is my one-hundredth rhink fic on Ao3. I wanted to mark the occasion somehow. So I wrote some tooth-rotting fluff. Thank you to everyone who has read, kudosed and commented on my works here. It's been a wild ride. Love you all!
> 
> A podfic of this ficlet read by me can be found [here](https://soundcloud.com/reeta-maekinen/one-hundred/s-743RKuFb4Oj).

“I want you to count to one hundred,” Link always said when they were kids and playing hide-and-seek.  
And Rhett always argued. He said that it was too long, fifty would be enough, thirty even, but Link wouldn’t budge.  
“Has to be one hundred. It’s a good, even number. Feels right.”  
And every time Rhett counted to one hundred, because what else could he do? He’d do anything for Link.

“I want you to count to one hundred,” Link said under the bleachers after the basketball game. Rhett was high on the win, high on teenage exuberance, high on Link’s proximity.  
Something had changed between them in the past few years. It had been slow, incremental. They hadn’t even known it was happening. Not until that day. Not until Rhett had moaned and whined about counting but, like always, counted anyway.  
By then, Link had known, but Rhett still hadn’t until the last number fell from his lips and was caught by another pair of lips pressing against his.  
The kiss was sweet. Barely more than a peck, but earth-shattering in its simplicity.  
Rhett opened his eyes slowly and saw Link watching him, anxiety painted on his face, a question hovering between them.  
Rhett lifted his hand and gently brushed his fingers along Link’s jaw.  
“Feels right,” he whispered and leaned for another kiss, the second one of thousands to come.

“I want you to count to one hundred,” Link said one night. They were grown, but not yet adults. Playing hide-and-seek was a distant memory, but the world was big and scary even when they were facing it together.  
Rhett laughed. “Why?” he asked, pausing the game they were playing.  
“Just do it,” Link ordered with a lopsided grin.  
Rhett counted.  
“… Ninety-nine. One hundred!” He opened his eyes and found himself alone on the couch.  
“Link?”  
No answer.  
“I don’t get it,” Rhett mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. Then he noticed the bedroom door ajar.  
With shaky legs, he rose and walked in.  
Link was snuggled up on Rhett’s bed, wearing only a sheet and a shy smile.  
“Are you sure?” Rhett asked with a small quiver in his voice, heart hammering in his chest, and heat coiling in his belly.  
Link nodded, lifted the sheet in invitation, and whispered: “Feels right.”

“I want you to count to one hundred,” Link said with his arms around Rhett’s shoulders as they bobbed in the muddy waters of the river they called home. A vacation from their busy life in L.A. had been much needed. The company they so loved would be waiting for them when they got back.  
Rhett closed his eyes and counted.  
“…Ninety-nine. On—” A wet, sun-scorched kiss interrupted him. Rhett tried to back away to finish the count, but the fingers threading into his knotted hair were insistent and Rhett melted into the embrace of his love.  
When Link released him, he huffed. “You didn’t let me finish.”  
Link smiled, brushed a lock of hair away from Rhett's face.  
“Doesn’t feel right, does it? Doesn’t feel complete? Like I don’t feel complete without you. Make me officially yours, Rhett. Marry me.”  
The whoop and the resounding yes that followed scared away a flock of birds. Their wings flapped in annoyance above the two men sinking into another heated kiss.

“I want you to count to one hundred,” Link whispered into Rhett's ear one morning. Rhett was still on the trapeze that was the thin line between asleep and awake.  
“Hmm?” he muttered, pulling Link’s pliable body closer to himself, lazily pawing at the curves he knew by heart.  
“Baby,” Link said, softly kissing Rhett’s nose. “I want you to count.”  
Rhett opened one eye.  
“Is it morning?”  
“Almost,” Link promised and nudged him. Rhett sighed and counted.  
With every number Link laid a soft kiss or caress onto Rhett’s skin. By one hundred Rhett was awake and alive with sensation. He opened his eyes and was about to collect a much-needed, hungry kiss from his husband's lips, but the glare of the phone screen stopped him. He blinked and frowned.  
“What’s that?” Rhett asked, trying to make sense of the picture of what looked like a bundle of blankets.  
“ _That_ is a she. And _she_ is ours.”  
Tears. Laughter. At least one hundred kisses. A morning of excited anticipation and feverish planning for the day when their daughter could finally come home.

“Daddy, I want you to count to one hundred,” a small but clear voice said. Rhett picked up his girl and gave her an Eskimo kiss.  
“That’s too much, baby girl. How about twenty?”  
“No.”  
“Thirty?” Rhett offered.  
“No. One hundred.”  
“Fifty, my final offer.”  
The girl rolled her eyes. Rhett’s chest filled with love that was almost crushing. Like father, like daughter.  
“No. Has to be one hundred. Dad always says so. It’s a good, even number.”  
Right then the front door opened and Link walked in.  
“Isn’t that right, dad?!” the girl called out.  
“Is what right?” Link asked as he walked up to them and greeted them both with a kiss and a smile.  
“It has to be one hundred,” she said stubbornly.  
Link laughed and looked at Rhett with the softest smile. “It has to. You know that, daddy. It just feels right.”  
And again, Rhett counted.


End file.
